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| Sunset in Oban |
People say that they can remember what they were doing when
they heard that JFK had been shot. I can remember what I was doing when I heard
that fateful news that Calmac were going ahead with strike action the day
before the Barrathon. This may seem a tad melodramatic but it did seem as
though time really did stand still and it looked like my 2015 Heb 3 campaign
would be in tatters as would be the case for quite a number of people. I
resorted to a few pitiful facebook messages to the Heb 3 organiser asking if I
could still have a Heb 3 T shirt and tried to gauge enthusiasm for an
unofficial Barathon hangover run on the Sunday if we were still to get to Barra
in time for the celidh on the Saturday night (I’ve never been one to miss a
good party!) but no matter what, it looked as though the Barrathon wasn’t
happening for us this year and the disappointment was palpable.
And then miracle of miracles (or should I say the MacNeil
Magic?) and Calmac announced there would be a Barra sailing leaving Oban in the
early hours of Saturday morning after the strike had finished at midnight. The
Barrathon was still on!
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| Waiting to board. The ferry departed Oban just after 2am |
I had a precautionary whisky in Oban and then joined the
melee of people looking for something resembling a comfortable sleeping spot on
the boat but I hadn’t been on board more than five minutes before I realised
that the heat, the noise, the bright fluorescent lighting and the mass of
bodies lying everywhere was not conducive to the few hours sleep that were to
be snatched before the start of the race and so Simon and I headed out on deck.
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| Simon's bed for the night |
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| My bed for the night |
The fine soft sunset had given way to a dark cloudy starless
night but it was dry and so I snuggled into the little “nest” that I had made
myself as protection against the coolness of the night and drifted off
listening to the comforting hum of the engines. I must have slept well as I
woke up in Castlebay just after 6am soaked through. It had rained during the
night but the rain had failed to wake me. I struggled out of my wringing wet
sleeping bag totally disorientated with my first thought being that I was going
to have to run a half marathon in a few hours time. My second thought was to
wake Simon up which was achieved after a few prods and he wobbled to his feet
equally disorientated.
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| Arriving in Castlebay at 6am |
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| Morning! |
Unbeknown to us during the night folk had come out on
deck and taken photos of the two “down-and-outs” as Dean referred to us. I
didn’t realise that sleeping out on deck would draw quite so much attention as
it seemed like such a perfectly obvious thing to do.
Another hours fitful sleep and a bowl of porridge were
snatched at the hotel before sleepily lining up for the race feeling distinctly
foggy brained and wondering if it was physically possible to fall asleep during
a half marathon. Strangely enough I had been fine when I stepped off the ferry
but the additional hours’ sleep at the hotel had made me more tired and groggy but
as soon as Katie sounded the horn signalling the start of the 2015 Barrathon
the fog lifted from my brain and the hard work began.
The first 6 or so miles passed very (too?) quickly assisted
by the tailwind but the velocity decreased noticeably as soon as I turned into
the wind and the hills of the second half of the course. By 10 miles I was
beginning to struggle, perhaps paying for my enthusiastic start and the
knowledge that Simon, Mairead and my Heb Half nemesis Hamish were somewhere
behind me made things a little bit uncomfortable and I was constantly listening
out for footsteps and the clapping of supporters on the course behind me
indicating that I was about to be overtaken. At the start of the hill I had
caught up with Gillian and Susan before they hit the accelerator on the
downhill stretch into Castlebay leaving me for dead. Usually the glimpse of the
Castle from the top of the hill acts as rejuvenator for tired limbs but not
this time and that final mile was a slow weary legged plod down into the
village and the finish line at the school.
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| The Stornoway runners had a 3am start thanks to the ferry strike |
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| The start |
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| Heading towards the 2mile marker |
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| Dean |
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| Hamish, my heb half nemesis |
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| The infamous hill |
I finished and waited for Simon who appeared, stopped some
100 yards before the line to take photos, then carried on to the finish.
Apparently he had been taking photos all the way round the course to distract
himself from the tiredness and take his mind off the lack of sleep….the
wind….the hills….the race….etc.
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| Simon stopped just before the finish line to take photos |
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| The finish line |
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| What kept you? |
It was a strange Barrathon this year, everything felt out of
sync. The Saturday morning arrival, the later race start time, the number of
folk in the group injured and not running, the later buffet time and the tragic
news about the Kisimul café as well as the overwhelming desire to grab sleep
when we could meant that it was not until Sunday night that we all sat down
together for a meal. The Celidh was as good as ever with the Vatersay Boys
providing the music but we got a bit of a shock when we went in search of the
post celidh party and went into the Castlebay Bar, the usual party venue, and
the place was as quiet as a morgue. Turns out that the Craigard Bar is the new
party bar and the place was jumping. Literally. Folk were on chairs and tables
and the band kept responding to the audience chants of “one more song!” long
after the bar had shut. I decided it was futile to go to bed any earlier as
there would be a lot of noise until the band stopped playing….that’s my excuse
and I’m sticking to it.
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| Leaving the celidh and looking for a party |
It was a strange Barrathon in other ways. One of the
usual party animals (who shall remain nameless) skulked off to bed early before
the band had finished their final fling. This very same runner (whose name I am keeping secret to protect his party animal reputation) also skulked
away after dinner on the Sunday to go read a book about training while the rest
of us were in the bar. Very weird behaviour if you ask me - this is NOT what
you go to Barra for. We realised he was missing but we also realised that, more
importantly, he had a bottle of wine in his room and so Hamish was dispatched
to fetch, if not the runner, then at least the bottle of wine. A short time
later this nameless “wannabe” elite runner duly joined us in the bar… although
there were some suggestions that Hamish brought back the wrong one.
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| Stornoway runners all sporting brown Heb 3 t-shirts |
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| Dinner with a view of the castle |
More and more sleep deprived I couldn’t bring myself to go
for a pre-breakfast run the next morning and so a short lunchtime trot had to
suffice before we hit the beach and I attempted to swim in the rough seas on
the west side of Vatersay while Simon practiced trying to stand up on his
surfboard away from the busier and more calm and sheltered beach on the east.
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| Machair flowers on Vatersay |
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| The beaches of Vatersay |
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| Castlebay |
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| Vatersay |
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| WW2 Plane crash site |
All too soon it was Monday morning and time to say goodbye
to everyone taking the Calmac ferry back to Oban. Our plan for the week was to
head north to Harris and we were very nearly joined by Bert and John who came
heart stoppingly close to missing the ferry and who were last to board the
boat, just as the gates were being closed. Imagine, being stuck on Barra for an
extra day…well actually that sounds pretty damn good to me. I'm not sure what Bert's excuse was for sleeping in, its not as though he was up late partying....oop's! have I just let a wee secret slip? :-)
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| Last on... |
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| Farewell...!!! |
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| Leaving Castlebay |
It was another great Barra weekend, if a bit different from usual, and mention must be made
of the work done by Katie and her band of helpers in putting on this event in
very trying circumstances.
